


ways to get the heart racing:

by shannyan



Category: Dorohedoro
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Masochism, Mouth trauma, gut fingering, omfg these tags.. no one’s gonna read this shit LOL, shin has a murder fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannyan/pseuds/shannyan
Summary: fighting, fucking, (and maybe loving? ooooh.)Shin gets a boner after a good fight and Noi finds out. what could possibly happen next!
Relationships: Noi/Shin (Dorohedoro)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 233





	ways to get the heart racing:

**Author's Note:**

> in case u didn’t see the tags, there’s gore and some masochism in here. not detailed imo (at least not as much as my other stuff) but still, beware. also, debatable dubcon. every part of this is consensual but! shin is very repressed and awk which CAN come across as dubious. but rest assured, he’s super into it. i mean who wouldn’t be, have y’all seen noi...

“We’ve worked together long enough for me to know that you don’t need to see my wounds to fix them.”

Said wounds are a cut in his cheek and some internal bleeding in his stomach. No biggie. 

Noi looks at him, cocks her head to the side. “Wha? I’ve got no idea what you’re saying Senpai!”

Alright, so it’s both cheeks, and they’ve been sliced clean through, making his tongue loll out of his mouth in a very unattractive manner. He spun the mask around to hide this, but it’s easily betrayed by his inability to speak clearly. The blood he’s coughing up from having his guts scrambled doesn’t help either. On cue, he coughs again, grimacing at how it wets the already soaked material covering his face. 

“Senpai, just stop struggling and lemme see!” Insistent, she takes hold of his elbow and yanks him closer, reaches for his mask, and he clumsily jerks away, too panicked to be embarrassed by how he falls on his ass onto the floor. 

He’s not crazy about being touched, especially right after fighting. The discomfort comes pretty close to how he feels about having his face seen, all torn and silly. It’ll have to be fixed, he knows that, and there’s no sense in putting it off but, gah! Why must he pay the price of having her make fun of him. Stubborn, he points at her, then his face, and crosses his arms. 

She’s never insisted on looking before, was in fact healing him before he even noticed his own wounds, but consistency was never her strong suit. 

She tilts her head up, sniffing the challenge, and don’t ask how but he can just see, see that she’s smiling under there. He shakes his head slowly, scoots away, even raises a threatening hand toward her, but she only grins at this. And pounces. 

It’s not intuition but rather familiarity that causes him to use his smoke before she can get a hold of him— her eyes visibly widen beneath the mask as her head separates from her body, limbs from her torso, uniformly cut up into fat slices. No guilt, however— her body closes up just as quickly, bones and muscles sticking back together like magnets. It happens in a heartbeat, like a heartbeat actually, how her body expands then contracts. 

Unphased, she barks a laugh and takes a swing at him. “What, was the operation not enough for ya?”

He’s able to duck out of her range in his poor state, but still he’s winded and still can hardly talk. He shoots the most impatient glare he can muster at her but it goes poorly with the carved smile in his face, fuck. 

“Alright, alright, hold on—“ She approaches and he allows it, too trusting, he realizes, when she instead grabs him and knocks him right back onto the floor. 

Those baggy pants he’s always wearing aren’t just part of his fashion sense. He doesn’t need to state their function though, not even in his own mental narration. Nor does he need to mention how his own thoughts make his cheeks flush, hidden very well beneath the mask, grime, and blood. 

In his defense, today's targets put up a better fight than he’d expected— His blood was _pumping_ , body burning, hands still shaking from the excitement of it all. When’s the last time he was injured this bad? He can hardly recall. The perpetrator was paid back in full, mandible cut clean off so that half of his head was severed. His bag is the noisiest right now, wet and gurgling through his exposed throat. 

It usually goes away on its own quickly, calms along with his heart rate and breath, but Noi either has really great or really poor timing. 

Oblivious, she slides her mask up to dazzle him with a smile while he, helpless, can only keep a hand on his mask and another at the hem of his shirt to ward her away. She grabs the top of his mask and the material immediately begins to tear between their tight grips. Huffing, she releases it to salvage it, respect narrowly overpowering her curiosity. He’s halfway through a sigh of relief before she switches her attention to his abdomen, where she wouldn’t mind tearing the clothes off of. Gah. 

It’s a choice between revealing the stupid look on his face or his stupid erection. With a defeated sigh now, he releases his hold on his mask, which she promptly rips off with a grin. 

“Oh… Senpai…” 

Ughh.

“You’re smiling!” Is she aware that she’s literally sitting on top of his guts or does she just not care? Either is very possible. “And so wide too, wow,” He coughs, in her face, though she doesn’t even flinch. “I gotta commemorate this—“

She chooses this moment to photograph, shoving the proof in his face. He looks like En, both rows of his teeth bared, gums and everything. A few were even knocked out, bloody sockets hardly visible among the bright red of blood and ripped flesh. He prods at one of them with his tongue and groans, shooting Noi a tired look. 

“Alright, alright, I hear you, just—“ She grabs his shoulders and pulls him so he’s sitting up, stretches out her arm to hold her phone away from them. “A selfie! For En’s wall! To remember the time we matched.”

“Bad taste.” Still, he relents, even humors her by smiling, as best he can when most of the muscles are torn around his mouth. But then, to get a better angle or something, she scoots back from his stomach to his hips, there’s definite contact but— he’s sure she doesn’t feel it, not when he gasps a puff of smoke into her face and her body literally unwinds off of him. 

Except she’s prepared for it this time; there’s a wink of blood and guts before she reverts back in the blink of an eye, pressing against him even more firmly. She sits right back down where she was, caging him in between her knees, thighs cinching his sides. 

She gasps, he winces, and bags behind them moan, unrelated. He braces himself for whoever knows what, teasing, or maybe, ah, offense?? But she just blinks and crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you get a look at my tits just then? Senpai!”

He buries his face into his palm, groaning, and subtly tries to arch away from the contact, which was unfortunately eliciting a reaction. “No, shut up, it’s not because of you!”

Fuck her for the look of disappointment that follows. 

“Are scrawny guys your type then? I guess there aren’t many strong ones—“

“Can you shut up and get off of me??” From him, it’s just some unintelligible spluttering, but his tone should at least convey his feelings well enough. Hopefully it’s more convincing that his lying traitorous dick. 

Either for aesthetic or impatience, she finally heals him, but not completely— the rip is mended but a scar remains, jagged lines curving from both sides of his lips. His guts remain inside out, but they don’t impede his ability to speak, so he can deal with it for a while longer. 

“Senpai. We’re so doing this.”

He nearly bites his freshly healed tongue right off. “No! No we absolutely are not!” He starts to shove at her shoulders but— 

She’s already got her suit half opened and he knows she’s not wearing a bra under there, which is weird of him to know but still weird of her to do. Aren’t those supposed to be… heavy? She’s strong but shouldn’t it still— ahgghh. 

“Why not?”

He covers his eyes with his hands, which conveniently also help to hide his blushing. “Because! Because—“

Nothing follows that, which doesn’t help his case. It’s not that he doesn’t have a reason though, he _does_ , but— he just doesn’t know what it is. They can’t because— because he’s Shin and she’s Noi! True, they get along extremely well, and he’s confirmed to be her “most precious person”, and he doesn’t need the same trial to prove that she’s the same for him, _but_ — 

“...we… haven’t even kissed yet..!”

She blinks, grabs the front of his shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss. His hands go from his eyes to his lips. “Noi!!”

“I would’ve made a move sooner if I knew you were into it! I didn’t even know you could pop a boner, to be honest.”

“Wha— what the fuck!?!”

“Well, look at me. You’ve known me for like, ever, but still never made a move. Even though you’ve seen me naked! If that doesn’t do it, nothing could.”

That infamous unrelenting spirit of immortality of his leaves him at this very moment. He wouldn’t quite mind dying right now. “You— shouldn’t be so cocky.”

“I have every right to be.” She strikes a little pose, juts her hips out and raises her arms behind her head, and Shin chokes on his own spit. 

She fucking— grinds on him, wide hips rubbing against both his crotch and the gaping hole in his stomach, and the combination of pain pleasure has his brain short circuiting. It’s so abrupt that he jerks backwards, slamming his head against the ground. The stars he sees doesn’t block out the vision of her smirking down at him, eyes that he swears glow a little red from the remnants of her devil personality. 

“Hey, what if we kissed first?”

It’s a good opportunity to firmly refuse her now, assert his disinterest, again request a proper healing, and carry these body bags home. The time is now but—

Bloodthirst is a branch off of hedonism, apparently, which he has a reputation for not controlling. Still, embarrassed, he doesn’t respond, but Noi gets the message and leans over to kiss him. It’s open mouthed right from the beginning and tastes like blood, sparking that pleasant association he has with that and a fun kill. A hand sinks into his hair, as comforting as it is abrasive. She’s too strong for her own good, grip too firm to be gentle, lips too demanding to be sweet. It’s perfect. 

Everything she does is hurried, her hands roam impatiently, indecisively. At first he attributes it to a fear of being stopped, but he then realizes that she’s probably just really excited. Did she actually.. want this? For so long? Since when?

“H-How long have you— “ Cut off from his mouth, she averts her attention to his neck, and bites so hard he audibly yelps. She sucks on the mark in apology, which heals before it can bruise, but the cycle repeats with another and another bite, over his jawline, his carotid pulse, his collarbone. 

Her back arches, relieving the pressure on his crotch but squashing her tits against his chest. He can’t help it, he screws his eyes shut, clenches his hands at his sides. He wants to look, wants to touch, but it feels all too taboo. He’s undeserving, as the one who took Noi’s devilship away from her. She forgives him, he knows she has, but it gives him no reason to forgive himself. 

Though, her personality has already become that of a devil’s; her hedonism is beyond that which a normal being could ever foster. And that’s probably what this is for her, what it’s always been— simple fun. He’s the only one torturing himself like this, but awareness doesn’t cure anything. If she wants it (and he, maybe, wants it…), then shouldn’t he…? 

Before he knows it they’re kissing again now, if you can even call it that; her tongue swipes over his teeth, then the back of them, sticks in deep enough to skim the roof of his mouth and that’s really pushing it, makes him accidentally snap his mouth shut during a full body tremble, but she doesn’t cease— not in pain or amusement.

Whatever magical energy that’s always flowing through her has gotten into him through their… mouths, which he only realizes when he finds the pain in his mouth has completely vanished, the stabbing ache in his stomach soothed. It’s replaced by a new pain, however, which is her remarkable weight against his ribs, which he swears is literally compressing his chest, at least by an inch. So he’s breathless, woozy, and completely overwhelmed by all the— touching. 

A hand grabs his wrist, guides it to— his pullback is unconvincing, and she maneuvers his hand to her breast. Her skin’s hot here, right above her heart, even hotter than his sweaty palm. It’s the only area that all her muscle can’t encroach on, soft and supple, heavy and overflowing between his fingers. Uncertainly, he squeezes, feels the flesh follows the shape of his hand.

The touching wouldn’t be complete without the visual so he turns his head down, breaking off their kiss and kinda just— stares. But apparently an unoccupied mouth just won’t do, because she latches onto his ear at the very next moment. “C’mon…” Her breath is warm, hot against his neck, and then she nibbles at the shell, traces the contours of his ear with her tongue. It has him shudder, squirm a little, the sensation an odd in-between of ticklish and sensual. It dives into the latter when he feels her tongue— dip into his ear, holy shit—

Maybe it’d be unpleasant, he’d expect it to be, but she’s surprisingly gentle now, knows what she’s doing, and as unwilling he is to play into her hand, it really does feel good. Hearing and feeling combine, at the moment, her breath sounds so clear, so heavy, he can feel it all over. “Senpai…”

He huffs, swallows, and wills himself to be a little more bold. Gentle groping is forgone to determined squeezing, he circles his thumbs over her nipples and presses over them again and again until they rise, harden, until she’s pushing her chest out for more. The bold streak continues as he comes down to suck one into his mouth, catches it between his tongue and teeth, bites and sucks hard enough to get her to cry out. Her voice reaches an octave new to his ears, which gives an equivalent rise to his own arousal. 

It’s a real surprise when a hand is pushed against— into his stomach, the slowly closing wound, which in fact shrunk down half its original size. But no matter, her fingers shove their way through, wiggling and wandering. It drags a shout, an accidental bite out of him, his panicked body blindly bucks into it in its attempt to escape, which returns yet another round of stabbing pain. “Hfghhk— Noi, s-stop that..”

His (very slightly) watery eyes catch her smile, before squeezing shut from even more pain, when she removes her hand only to slam it back in. He can take it, he really can, but he doesn’t _want_ to, and so he’s this close to kicking her off of him when he feels her other hand shoot down his pants to grab his dick, which catches him so off guard he’s sure even the devil tumor in his head jolts at it. 

“You’re so hard.” It’s just the statement of a fact, really, but he flushes at how dirty it sounds from her, squeezes his thighs shut for whatever good that could possibly do. Her fingers wiggle inside of him and his dick twitches in her hand and oh god, he’s so disgusting, this is not something he wants to know about himself. 

She sits up, finally allowing him a true breath of air, which leaves him too soon when he sees her pull her tracksuit all the way down, off her legs and discarded to the side. It’s too much— he doesn’t know where to look— her stomach is so sculpted, ridged with bulging muscle, lines which track down to the v of her hips, which are wide and welcoming. Without his glasses, he can’t see it all, but that’s a blessing, considering how this is enough to immobilize him. He’s too busy staring to object to being undressed himself, buttons popping off as his shirt is ripped open and pants yanked down to his knees. 

When she grinds down, he has to bite his own lip to smother any embarrassing sounds, though the tang of blood in his mouth does his current condition no favors. It elicits a look of disapproval, then one of challenge, as she rolls over again and again, oh fuck, and it’s skin on skin contact, her vulva spread over the girth of his dick, slippery but all enveloping, god, it’s so, explicit, obscene. 

She’s not even gonna prepare herself or, like, savor the moment, or—? It’s rushed, and on the brink of too much, a far cry from what he’s imagined (YES, alright, he’s thought about it once or twice) (they’re always together, everyone’s made a comment about it at least once, and yeah he’s seen her naked a couple of times, it’d be weird if he _didn’t_ —) but it’s not disappointing in the least, he shares her urgency, wants to feel her more, all over, in and out. 

There’s no time spent stretching herself— she grabs his dick, lines it up against her hole, and just— sits. This time he does make a noise, a hiss overshadowed by her gasp, either by the penetration itself or his white-knuckled grip on her hips, blunt nails digging little indents. She bounces and adjusts, adjusts again, trying to find the right spot, and while she hasn’t reached it, he definitely has— he has a high pain threshold but a low pleasure one, very low, fuck— they’ve just started but he could come right now, with all that heat and pressure. She’s so wet, he can not only feel it but hear it, against the sound of skin on skin. Every time she sits all the way down there’s a swift slap, an oddly sexy squelch, and a repressed grunt from him. 

From his vantage point he can only buck his hips up along with her movements but that’s not enough to vent this— energy, nor is the tongue-biting, the toe curling, the clench of every muscle he can grab a hold of at the moment. No, it’s not—

So he flips them over in one frantic movement— slams her bare back against the bloody floor, fuck, then his back is probably in the same condition, whatever— moves one hand to her shoulder, nearly shatters the bone in his hold and wretches a harsh breath from his stunned lungs. “It is— okay?” 

Her eyes are wide with surprise and she just nods, one part eager and two, plainly, horny. That shouldn’t made him smile as it does but what the fuck ever, she feels so good around him. 

She grabs at the hand on her shoulder to hold in her own hand, which is squeezed hard enough to undo his stitching. Meanwhile, he ducks his head down and bites at the juncture of her neck, laves at the skin between his teeth with his tongue, and he swears he can _taste_ her magic as it heals against him, pushing the intrusion out, only for him to bite back twice as hard. Her hair’s soft against his cheek, smells nice now that he’s close enough to notice, and he gets an odd feeling of satisfaction to watch it mat from his manhandling, damp with sweat, flattened against the hard surface of the ground, tangled from every time he rakes his fingers through it. 

He hums against— into her skin, losing focus, control of whatever sounds escape him, fucking her like he’s stabbing her, with the same vigor and strength he swings his hammer with. She’s tight all the way through, her body pulls him in but doesn’t part for him, demands that he force his way through, which he does, gladly. 

It may be too much, he’s way too into it, his poor ever changing stomach wound rips further from the exertion, thick drops of blood dribbling over Noi’s torso, makes her body slick beneath him, as they both get each other red. Whatever restraint he had has left him, leaving him mean and greedy, squashing her hand against the ground hard enough to scrape the skin there, kisses at her neck quickly dissolving into hickies, then into plain ol bite marks. 

But the crushing grip of her hand is grounding, keeps him aware of every moment. Less than thrusting himself, he uses his hold on her hips to physically pull her on and off of him, but it’s a combination of both that brings them that startling friction. 

He’s too zoned in on how she feels to notice how she sounds, but her voice eventually phases in, a number of breathless “senpai”s along with the occasional “Shin”. Which is a rarity, especially without the suffix, the sort of small thing that’d get him to blush, were he not balls deep in her. 

Though she’d come onto him, her eyes are wide with shock, have been since he took initiative. She’s cruel and selfish and inconsiderate, but she’s still clueless underneath it all, a surprising underbelly of innocence, the product of trust and admiration. It gives her face a soft flush, her body a slow building tremor. He can feel her heart beating through her chest against his own, as they’re tightly pressed together within their embrace. It might be from the activity itself, probably is, but he just _feels_ that it’s because she’s pleasantly surprised. He’s aware that he’s withholding, she’s probably used to it by now, so to receive so suddenly, so easily..

It really betrays how eager he is, fuck. In hindsight, it’s kinda miraculous that this hasn’t happened sooner.

The open display of pleasure is encouraging, has him move a hand to where they’re connected, two fingers brought together to smooth over her clit, kneading over it harder and harder, eventually just haphazardly pinching it between is thumb and index to give her all the friction she goads him on for, in the form of panted cries and an insistent heel digging into his bare back. Her legs completely shut around him every time he _really_ hits a good spot, unconsciously trying to keep him stuck there, and he’s gotta bodily fight his way out by ripping her off of him and then slamming back in. He’s gonna come, would’ve by now, if he’d let himself. But after scrambling to reach this point, there’s no way he can get off this quickly. 

“Fuck fuck— hgh, Shin—!”

Or so he thinks, but it’s a very different sensation when she comes, so fucking tight he swears his blood flows cut off, at his dick, at his hand which is 100% crushed by hers, and at his brain, probably. She shouts from it, body tightly coiled as it hits her, eyes and mouth wide. She spasms so hard she knees him in the stomach, and of course against the mangled half of his abdomen, which has him both hack up blood and.. come. 

His very last sense has him pull out and fist his cock when he comes, a very last minute and sloppy way to try and get none of it in or on her. He’s, thankfully, quieter than her, voice lost as he just wheezes from the blow and aftershock of the orgasm, mouth hung open long enough that he feels drool around his lips when he’s finally over it. He swallows, drowsy, and looks at her face which probably perfectly reflects his. 

But neither of them are the type to bask in the post-orgasm haze, they’re both redressing the moment they’re finished (Though “dressed” is a stretch, both their clothes are almost comically shredded), as they’re expected home soon. Shin’s already readying himself for that trip, for whatever the fuck they should be saying to each other, what this all means for them now, if they’re, maybe, a thing..? But Noi seamlessly dissolves all that anxiety by— 

“Hey, Senpai, I accidentally hit the record button when you threw my phone! Looks like there’re no visuals but maybe there’s audio! Want me to send it to y— hey, wait up! Senpai! Hey, Senpaiii!”

**Author's Note:**

> the first straight thing i’ve ever written… wow… drhdr is truly magical. fyi shin totally gets pegged but this is all the porn i could do for today


End file.
